Days of Highs, Nights of Blood
by PinkieMarikPie
Summary: Marik is a drunken wreck, when he meets a doctor and nurse with similar problems.
1. Chapter 1: Malik

Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, it belongs to Kazuki Takahashi

Chapter One

Malik glared at the damn letter on the table. Yet another "polite" refusal from yet another publishing company, he was sick and tired of them. It was all the same, week after week, month after month, year after year. Yelling at no one in particular, he picked up a random lamp sitting in the corner of his run-down apartment, and hurled it at the wall, angry at the world, and how it had made him become who he was. Turning he picked up a half-empty bottle of whiskey off the counter, glanced at the contents quickly, and poured himself a glass. He savored the numb feeling that only alcohol could give him. Downing one glass after another, Malik felt the whiskey taking hold of his body, drowning in the dumb happy feeling he got when he drank, which was becoming a common occurrence, nearly every day now.

Cursing underneath his breath when he emptied the bottle he stumbled around his apartment looking for something to else drink, often walking into walls, or the random pieces of furniture that he had thrown around when he was in one of his drunken rages. When he looked up he found himself in his bedroom, a pair of hazy purple eyes surrounded by sandy blonde hair staring back at him from the cracked mirror atop the dresser. Vaguely he wondered how he had ended up this way. After all of his family had died, he had moved to America to have a better life, but ended up a drunken writer who couldn't get anything published. Of course this wasn't how his sister, Isis, had wanted him to become, but it's not like she, or his adopted brother Rishid were around to see how he had ended up. No, it was only him; alone for the rest of his life.

All of Malik's family had died when he was sixteen, so he had moved to New York City, but having basically no money and no job credentials, not to mention being underage, he had been forced to do general labor for pitiful minimum wage. Malik had always used this as an excuse whenever someone would ask him why he was so drunk all the time, but in his heart; he knew he drank simply because he wanted to. The taste and the numb feeling of not being in control of your body, he loved and savored it. Malik was simply in love with drinking.

Sighing loudly, Malik groped for the television remote he figured was somewhere in the room, but instead of turning the TV on when he found it he hurled it at the mirror, cracking it once more, altering his reflection into shattered pieces, which he figured probably reflected his soul. Cracked and miserable, that's what he was, a mere shell of what he once was, a sliver of his potential that he could've had. It's not like he was ugly, or fat, or even unintelligent, he was simply broken. Malik Ishtar had no idea what to do with his life anymore.

"Fuck….I might as well go do something today…." He moaned at the ceiling, having finally spoken aloud. Rousing slightly, he held his head in his hands. He was going to have one hell of a hangover the next day, unless he kept the stupor going for as long as he could. Getting up shakily, he walked slowly over to his closet and grabbed the same clothes that he always wore, stained tank-top, ripped jeans, and his old leather jacket. He had worn some gold jewelry a long time ago, but living in the run-down neighborhood that he did, Malik had decided that it probably wasn't best to wear them in case they got stolen. They were the only connection he had left to his childhood, and even though he always needed money for more alcohol, he would never sell those; not in a million years.

Grabbing his keys after sliding his pitifully empty wallet into his back pocket, Malik left his apartment. He stuffed his hands into his pockets angrily, shivering at the cool autumn air that surrounded him as he walked. Normally Malik would've taken his motorcycle, but that was precious and expensive (at least to him) so he rarely took it out, except when he really needed to get somewhere quick, and when he wasn't that drunk. But right now, he just needed another drink, and he knew a cheap pub nearby that would barely cost him anything. So Malik shuffled his feet to the south and started walking, staring at the ground as he went.

As he walked, Malik barely took any notice of the poverty and filth that surrounded him, having gotten used to it over the last nine years. Passing all the prostitutes and homeless bums that talked to him, he only stopped when he smelled the familiar scent of human odor, spilled alcohol, vomit, and several smells that couldn't be quite identified. Pushing the door open, Malik walked in and sunk down at the stools at the front, signaling for the bartender to come over.

"Well, well, if it isn't Malik Ishtar. Haven't seen you in a while, so I automatically assumed you had drunk yourself to death." The bartender and closest thing he had to a friend in the city, Shadi, leaned over the counter and stared at Malik, scrutinizing his pale, unkempt figure. Shadi was in his early thirties and had also moved to New York from Egypt. He and Malik had met not long after Malik had moved to the states and had grown to friends, with Shadi helping Malik find a job and a place to live.

"Can it, Shadi. We both know that you come knocking on my door every other day just to check up on me." Malik took a long drink from the beer that Shadi had placed in front of him, glaring at the other Egyptian as angrily as he could in his state.

"Calm down, Malik. I just check up on you because you're twenty-five and drinking your life away. Wouldn't that worry you, if you were me?" Malik glared at the already half empty bottle and said in a low, angry tone "Not really, no, considering I'm already doing it, and I wouldn't worry about it 'if I were you'." His voice dripped with sarcasm on the last four words, spurring Shadi to turn around and check on other customers, knowing better than to deal with Malik when he was in one of his moods like that. Growling at his beer bottle, that had somehow become empty, Malik walked around the counter to grab another one, earning him a stern glare from the other Egyptian.

"You know you're not supposed to be back here." Shadi said his face turned towards the wall, purposefully not looking at the younger man.

"Yeah, and you're not supposed to be invading my personal life. But we all seem to do things we're not supposed to do, don't we?" Malik laughed sarcastically at Shadi, his words and laughter slurring together slightly. Shadi knew that was a warning sign that Malik was about to get very violent and drunk, he could hold his liquor well, but when it started to affect him, it would affect him hard. Gently grabbing Malik by the arm, Shadi lead him into the back room that he had specifically set up for the other man. When he was younger it had been a place for him to stay the night whenever he had troubles, but now it was a place for him to sleep when Malik was too drunk to do anything else.

Pulling him into the room, Shadi was surprised when Malik didn't fight back; usually he would yell and attack the other Egyptian, wanting something more to drink. Gently setting him down on the beat-up mattress in the room, Shadi sat next to Malik, watching his chest rise and fall, his eyes stare at the ceiling angrily, his fingers twitch every now and again. "What are you staring at, bartender?" Malik asked softly, his voice full of danger.

"What else do you think, Malik? I'm staring at you, of course." Shadi replied calmly. "I know you're mad at the world right now, but I really try to help you, and I wish you wouldn't push me away like this. If you keep doing this, you'll end up dying alone, drunk in your apartment, and I'd be really sad if that happened. So please, let me in a little. Take down that wall that you have surrounding your body, and let me help, at least just a bit."

"Damn it, Shadi, you're either my fucking counselor, or you just want to get into my pants." Malik yelled at him, sick of Shadi's pity speech, just wanting to be left alone. "I mean, that was one of the gayest things I've ever heard! Don't you realize that I just want to be left alone? If you do, then do it right now and if you don't, then get the hell away from me!" Malik glared at Shadi with all of his might, his lavender eyes daring him to say anything more. Shadi sighed softly, and stood up, knowing when he was defeated. Flipping one of his dangling hoop earrings in annoyance, Shadi stood up and walked out of the room.

"I understand, Malik, I'll leave you alone, but if you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask. Just ring the buzzer over in the corner, and I'll be in as soon as I possibly can." He walked out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Malik laid down on his back smirking slightly now that his 'caretaker' had left the room. Shadi had no idea that Malik had been taking liquor from the storefront and hiding it in the backroom, so whenever he would be put in there to be away from alcohol, Malik would just have some more for his personal enjoyment. Reaching under the mattress, he pulled out a loose floorboard he had discovered when he was younger, and pulled out a nearly full bottle of wine. Taking a huge swig from it, Malik savored the fruity, sickly-sweet flavor of the fermented liquid. He knew that it wasn't anything of good quality, but he didn't care about that. He only cared about being able to drink.

Sighing softly, Malik sat up looking at the flickering lonely light bulb, which in drunken rages, he had often thrown things at, but Shadi had made sure that nothing in the room was breakable or dangerous. Even if he hated it, Shadi did take good care of him, but Malik just wished that he wasn't so blatant about his homosexuality. Malik had nothing against gays; he just didn't want one in his life. Especially when Shadi could take advantage of him when he was so drunk he couldn't even remember his own last name (which had happened on one occasion).

Cursing the empty bottle, Malik reached for another, then another, then another. He was drinking a lot more than usual, but it's not like he cared. It was all to forget. He had drank for the first time when he was eighteen after one of the guys at his job had put a shot of vodka into the drink that he was sipping at the time. After that first taste, he couldn't get enough. Malik had started drinking more and more, but it had gotten really bad after he became legal and could actually buy the beer, instead of simply having to shoplift it whenever he could.

Leaning back onto his elbows, Malik drank deeply from the last bottle of beer that he had placed in his hiding place. Looking out the one grimy window that barely let in the neon lights that surrounded the area, Malik let out a soft growl, angry at himself for everything. If it wasn't for him, his entire family would still be alive, but instead, he was the one barely living, and the only people that ever really loved him were dead. His mother had died in childbirth with him, so it was his fault that she was dead. His father had been an abusive, insane man, but his siblings truly cared for him. Both Rishid and Isis had died trying to protect him from his father, but at least the man had died in the explosion the shotgun created as well.

Tossing the empty bottle aside, Malik shakily got up to his feet and started pacing slowly. He didn't normally do that, but tonight he had a lot of nervous energy that needed to be burned off. Wobbling slightly, Malik sat down on the chair that Shadi had occupied nearly an hour ago.

"What the hell…?" Malik grabbed his head, feeling shaky and sick, not at all like he usually felt when he went on a drinking binge.

Crashing to the floor, Malik's last conscious thought was "What the fuck is happening?"

Shadi tapped the counter with his fingers, not only bored out of his skull, but worried about Malik, too. Usually after about spending an hour in the room, he would ring the buzzer and yell at Shadi to bring him some more beer, or just spend some time yelling at him. Excusing himself from behind the counter, he walked over to the back room, but stumbled back in shock when he saw the sight before him.

Malik, lying sprawled on the floor, unconscious, surrounded by empty liquor bottles. Shadi ran out of the room, yelling at the pub "Is anyone here a doctor? If so, please come over, there's a man unconscious back here!"

A man stood up in the corner of the room, chuckling softly. His white hair fell into his eyes while he said softly "Yes, I'm a doctor. Do you want me to check this guy out?"

Shadi sighed in relief and said "Yes, please? Do you mind?"

The white-haired man looked at him bemusedly and replied "Of course not, and I'll even do it free of charge. That's how nice I am." He walked over to where Shadi was standing and looked calmly at the body laying on the floor.

"So, I assume that he drank too much and passed out. There's not much I can do for him, except sit him up and make sure that he doesn't choke to death on his own vomit. I'm really surprised that this hasn't happened before, considering how many times I've seen him here. That's really all I need to say about this situation." The man turned around and started to leave the room, but he paused when he heard Malik moan softly and turn around on the mattress.

"Wh-what….what happened?" Malik sat up, holding his head in his hands. He looked up to see Shadi and a strange man he didn't know standing over him, scrutinizing his every movement.

"Malik, you're awake. I was worried about you." Shadi said relieved, holding a hand over his chest, breathing softly. The other man, however, simply glared at Malik as if he hated him, which Malik thought was highly possible.

"It's good that you're not dead, young man. But it's obvious that you have some issues that need to be taken care of." The doctor squatted down next to Malik, sizing him up. Grinning slightly, almost sadistically, he handed him a small card with the words 'Bakura Yami, Doctor of Medicine'. "Feel free to come by my clinic tomorrow, and I'll, uh, give you a check-up personally."

Malik grabbed the card, glaring at the man supposedly called Bakura, and laughed sarcastically. "Yeah sure, I'll make sure to do that 'Doctor'. I simply can't wait." He stood up shakily, his hands on his knees, glaring at the both of them as best he could. "I'm leaving, Shadi. I probably won't be over here for a while since you two seem to care so much for my well-being."

As he walked out the door, Malik stumbled slightly, causing Bakura to lean over and catch him. Bakura laughed softly, "I don't think you should be walking home by yourself, young man. I'll walk with you."

"My name is Malik Ishtar, not young man! And I don't need you walking me home!" Malik pushed him away, but stumbled again into Bakura's arms, making the white haired man laugh evilly, and pull him back up again.

"I'm walking you home, Malik, and that's final." Bakura said dragging Malik out of the door; despite his many complaints and protests. Arriving at his apartment about twenty minutes later (it took longer than usual because Malik was yelling and trying to hit him the entire time), Bakura slammed open the door, and pushed Malik onto the couch.

"What the fuck is your problem, whitey? You don't just drag people home and then push them onto a couch like you're gonna rape them! Get the fuck away from me!" Malik threw a throw pillow at him. His aim was quite off because of the alcohol and went way wide of where Bakura was standing.

"You need some sleep, young man, so I suggest you get some. Your body is going to be hurting in the morning. From a hangover, I mean." Bakura winked at him, flipping on the light switch. "I'll stay here until you fall asleep, and then slip the key under the door when I leave. Is that okay with you, Malik?" He grinned, folding his arms, staring at Malik.

Malik groaned softly, saying "Yeah, why not. Just don't try anything, fucker. I swear, if you do, I'll rip off your balls and stuff them up your ass." He lay back on the couch, closing his eyes and sighing softly. Bakura laughed softly, flipping off the lights, and sat down, staring at Malik breathe softly.

An hour later, Bakura left the apartment, grinning sadistically, and holding Malik's wallet in one hand, and a small, sharp scalpel in the other. He walked slowly away, savoring in the moment of having found his next target.


	2. Chapter 2: Malik, Bakura, Ryou

Disclaimer: Hmmm….I still don't own Yu-Gi-Oh, last time I checked.

Chapter Two

The next day, Malik woke up with a gigantic headache. Grabbing his head in his hands, he leaned over the side of the couch, groaning. He didn't remember much of the previous night, just getting super drunk and then meeting some random dude who had white hair for some reason. Not the best thing to wake up to, but that tended to happen to him. Sighing, he sat up, still holding his head and stumbled into his kitchen. He started a pot of coffee; hoping that the highly caffeinated beverage could help to clear up the pain that was pounding somewhere behind his right eye. The hangover afterwards was the only bad part of drinking, really. The rest was pretty much good to him.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Malik sipped on it, staring at a hole in the wall. As far as he could recall, he had punched it in one day when he was in a drunken rage. The apartment was riddled with cracks and imperfections that he had created. Whenever Shadi was over he would try to fix some of them, and would succeed, but Malik would just create more later. Grimacing slightly, he set his cup down, and rested his chin on his fist, glaring at the entire apartment. It was the same as ever, cracked, and dilapidated; the only difference being a folded piece of paper on his dining table that Malik had missed before. Walking over to the table, Malik unfolded the piece of paper, only vaguely interested in what it had to say.

The page was very simple, with only a few words inscribed upon it. In a scribbled, messy script, the letter said 'Hello, Malik. Do you remember me from last night? If not, then my name is Bakura Yami, the doctor who helped cure you. I'd really love it if you could come down to my clinic today.' The address was written beneath the message, with his scrawled signature beneath it.

Malik glared at the letter, extremely annoyed. He didn't need help from a doctor, let alone one as creepy as this Bakura guy. Crumbling the paper into a little ball, Malik threw it at the trash can, superbly angry at people right now. He jumped slightly when his cell phone rang, not used to having anyone call him, since no one but Shadi had his number. Picking it up, Malik simply glared at his phone, not saying a word.

"Um, hello, is, uh, is anyone there?" a timid male voice spoke into the phone. "Is a Mr. Malik Ishtar at this number?"

"That depends on who's asking." Malik spat into the phone, hearing the voice on the other side, breathe in softly, surprised by the answer.

"The doctor told me to call this number to confirm an appointment….? I'm Ryou Hikari, a nurse from Dr. Bakura's clinic." The young man on the other side of the line breathed softly, waiting for a response to his statement.

Malik froze for a second, shocked beyond belief. This crazy doctor had somehow gotten his number, and was now sending his nurses after him. Gaining his composure slightly, Malik replied "I don't believe I set up an appointment with him, so tell that to the doctor." Grinning evilly, he was about to hang up, when the male nurse spoke again.

"I just told him that, and he said that you agreed to one last night when he was walking you home, apparently. I can put him on the phone if you want." The boy's voice faltered slightly at the end of the second sentence, the semi-question teetering on the tip of his tongue.

Malik groaned, hating himself at that moment. He vaguely recalled the white-haired individual asking him a bunch of questions while he was dragging Malik home, so he had probably asked him about an appointment, and Malik had most likely agreed to just to shut Bakura up. Groaning at the ceiling, he sighed and then spoke into the phone, saying "I do remember that now, I'll be over there in about fifteen minutes." Grabbing a black T-shirt and jeans that were balled up in the corner of his living room, Malik left his apartment, slamming the door behind him angrily, muttering to himself about psycho stalkers, and got onto his motorcycle, not bothering with a helmet anymore.

Driving to the address that had been given to him the previous night, Malik pulled up in front of the building, which was situated in a ritzy part of the city that he had never been in before. Staring at it in disbelief, he walked inside slowly, wondering if this was really the place he was supposed to be. Pushing open the door to the office marked "Doctor's Clinic", Malik was greeted by an attractive blonde woman sitting at the front desk. Looking up at him, she sighed softly and looked at him with apparent disgust. "Are you Malik Ishtar?"

Glaring at her, he replied, "Yes, I am. And who might you be?"

She shrugged, examining her nails and responded, "I'm Mai Kujaku, the secretary for Bakura Yami. Now sign in, sit down, shut up, and wait for the nurse to call you in."

He did as she asked, not wanting to bother with her anymore, annoyed at the way he was being treated. Looking around, Malik groaned inwardly at the fancy things that surrounded him. If anything pissed him off more than anything else, it would be rich people; and this doctor seemed to be fucking rich.

Malik looked up as a seemingly timid boy walked up to him and spoke. "Hi, I'm Ryou Hikari…the nurse who called you earlier. I can take you in now."

Glaring at him, Malik spat back, "I don't even know why I'm here, much less why you want me to be here, so just lead me to where I need to be and then let me live my fucking life as I want to live it.

The nurse stepped back a little surprised, but led Malik to the patient area nonetheless. Malik glared at him the entire time, not trusting anyone or anything that was here. The nurse stood next to a scale and said politely "Please take off your shoes and step on the scale, sir." Malik was about to yell at the kid when he noticed a white-haired male standing behind a corner and smirking lightly at him. Rolling his eyes, Malik did what he was told, and then was led to a small room.

Bowing slightly, the boy named Ryou smiled nervously and walked out saying "The doctor will be with you shortly, please wait until he can see you." Malik sat on a chair, and pulled out a flask, taking a hearty swig. Forget slightly tipsy, Malik needed to be full-on drunk before he could deal with the shit that was happening. Malik barely glanced up as the door opened; he knew who it was, and he sure as hell didn't want to deal with any fucking queers right now.

The doctor was the first one to talk, saying "Ah, Mr. Ishtar, I'm afraid that I don't allow drinking in my clinic, if you'd be so kind as to put that away." Malik merely glared up at him and took another drink, mumbling something about how he could do 'whatever the hell he wanted to'. The next thing he knew, the flask was out of his hand and in Bakura's, who placed the small metal canister in his lab-coat pocket. "I said, Mr. Ishtar, there will be no drinking in my office, so unless you want this back, I would suggest you keep your attitude and drinking problem in check."

Malik growled slightly, but did as he was asked. He did want his flask back, and maybe he could steal the doctor's wallet while he was getting his booze back. Bakura noticed his plans from the slight way his face changed into a smirk, but just rolled his eyes and continued checking the Egyptian man's blood pressure and temperature. After a couple of minutes, he stood away from Malik, folding his arms, and said "I need you to take your shirt off." Malik just widened his eyes and glared at him, "Hmm, how should I put this. Hell no."

Bakura laughed slightly, expecting the man to object to removing his clothes. Laughing, he smirked and said "I'm sorry if you don't like it, but because of your alcoholism, I need to take some blood from your stomach, and that involves taking off your shirt so unless you want me to do it, I suggest you take it off." Malik sighed and slipped off his black T-shirt, revealing his surprisingly muscled chest and abs, taking Bakura by surprise. Ryou, the nurse, hurried over with a needle and took the blood sample quickly, making Malik wince in pain, but he had given himself worse injuries before.

After everything was said and done with the 'appointment', Malik was about to leave, when Bakura placed his hand on Malik's shoulder and said "I want you to go home with my nurse, Ryou. You sir, have a serious drinking problem, and I don't want you to drink anymore tonight, so go home with Hikari and he'll make sure you don't drink one drop of alcohol anymore. Now, follow him, or I will make sure you do."

Malik glared at him, crossing his arms, and spat out "I'll do what I fucking want to! You think just because you helped me once I'll bow onto my knees and worship you? No, I will not do whatever the hell you want me to!" He was about to punch the doctor, when suddenly the white haired man grabbed the front of Malik's shirt and hissed into his ear, "You will do what I want, because I hold your life in my hands. You may not know that now, but believe me, you'll realize it soon enough." Letting go of Malik's shirt, he smirked at the look on the other man's face, and when he followed Ryou into the nurse's car without another word.

Ryou smiled sweetly at Malik when he entered the car, and drove off towards his apartment. When they arrived, he showed Malik in, and sat him on the couch. "Um, is there anything you want to drink or eat? I can offer you anything, except for alcohol, but I don't even keep that in my apartment."

Sighing, Malik stood up and walked into the restroom. "Bathroom..." He looked in the nurse's medicine cabinet for some pain-killers, wanting to get rid of the cluster headache that had been persisting all day and found some next to an un-marked pill bottle with some strangely blue-colored pills. After he took two aspirin, Malik opened the bottle and poured one of the pills into his hand, and examined it. Flipping it over, he noticed a small butterfly imprinted on one side of the medicine, and immediately, Malik knew what it was. Growling slightly, he slammed the door open and stormed into the kitchen where Ryou was standing and threw it onto the counter.

"What the hell is this?" He grabbed a strand of Ryou's hair, and yelled into his ear. "Why the fuck do you have a bottle of Ecstasy in your bathroom! I thought you were a good little nurse, and here you are popping pills!"

Ryou backed up against the counter frightened, and grabbed onto the edge of it for support and stammered "Pl-please don't hurt me…..I don't want to take them, b-but I can't stop, please don't hurt me!" He put his hands in front of his face, and looked at Malik surprised when the Egyptian let go of his hair.

"Don't get me wrong, nurse, I'm still pissed at you, and I may look like a fucking idiot, but I'm not. I figured out your true profession the moment I stepped into your bathroom…you whore. Unless you have a girlfriend or boyfriend at the moment, and I doubt you do, you don't look like the type to have lube and condoms lying around in your bathroom. Plus, considering the drugs, I assume you need more money than you can get from being a nurse, drugs like these are expensive." Throwing the pill bottle on the floor, Malik glared at Ryou and hissed out quietly, "I'm leaving now, but tell the doctor that I left, and believe me, the police will be on your tail the second you do." Turning on his heel, Malik left Ryou to stand in shock. Unfortunately he couldn't stand there for long; he had a customer to prepare for that night.

Bakura walked up to the expensive-looking manor and entered in, not bothering to knock. He knew that he couldn't stay here long since the police had had suspicions about this house for a while, but he still went in. Walking into the main room, he threw a stack of twenties onto the table and grabbed the bag of cocaine that was waiting for him. As he was about to leave, a deep voice said, "Bakura, have you killed the boy yet? I gave you that job over a week ago, and he still seems to be alive. That's rather disappointing, my dear. This is the longest you've ever taken to kill a victim; aside from that other drug dealer…oh, what was his name again? Atem or something like that, but I digress. If you don't kill him soon, I think you might have to start doing what your friend Ryou does; begging for me on his hands and knees, panting like the whore he is. So, kill the boy, and soon, or be forced to give me sex in exchange for the money that you don't have."

Bakura laughed bitterly, and said "Mariku, you know that I won't do that, and that I don't have a lack of money. I'd never fuck you, not in a million years. Maybe I should start paying Ryou a little more, so that he doesn't have to sleep with you anymore. Now fuck off, and let me leave with my drugs."

The man named Mariku merely laughed, and stated "Of course, I'll let you leave, Bakura. Just do me a favor; if you see any police, tell them to go away. They've been bothering me about drugs lately, and it's getting damn annoying."

Bakura flipped his dealer off as he walked out of the building, ignoring the calls from Mariku and stormed down the street fingering the knife in his pocket. He didn't want to kill Malik, but it seemed he would have no choice. Malik Ishtar would simply have to die.


	3. Chapter 3: Ryou, Kaiba, Mariku

Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh! Belongs to Kazuki Takahashi and (sadly) 4K!DS Entertainment

Please note, this chapter is rated Mature for a reason, if this bothers you, don't read it.

Chapter 3: Part One- Ryou

Ryou was incredibly disappointed in himself at that moment. Not only did he let down Dr. Bakura, a man who was so nice to him, but he had also let Malik find out about his addiction to Ecstasy, and about his job as a prostitute.

'A night of company', Ryou reminded himself, pulling on his "work" clothes, which consisted of a tight black shirt that showed his stomach, tight skinny jeans, and (one of the guys he met on the corner had suggested he wear these) leather boots. Not only was Ryou not comfortable calling himself a prostitute after a year of doing it, but he also wasn't comfortable with the client he was about to go see. The man's name was Seto Kaiba, and Ryou had met him when he was just starting out. Kaiba had paid for Ryou's services, and over the year, Ryou had, to put it bluntly, become Kaiba's hooker. Ryou hated the man, because of his love of sex toys and S&M, but being one of the richest men in the city, he paid extremely well, so the teenager dealt with the man's perverseness.

Walking into his bathroom, Ryou took out one of the little blue pills that had ruined his life, swallowed it, and felt as the chemicals and drugs started to take over his body. Groaning, Ryou sighed softly, and reached into the cabinet for the small bottle of lube he kept handy. None of the men ever used lube; Ryou wasn't a masochist, and he didn't like sex raw. On the first time he'd ever sold his body for money, the teen had stretched himself out a bit before-hand, but it had barely helped alleviate the pain. However, thanks to a girl named Shizuka who was approximately the same age as him, he learned to apply lube and/or oil before you would go to meet the client.

Ryou pulled down his pants, squeezed some of the scented lubrication on his middle finger, and slid it inside his entrance. Biting his bottom lip, he felt himself get hard immediately, but that was probably because the drugs always made his sexual needs greater. Ecstasy was a powerful drug, and it could have different effects on different people, but Ryou always seemed to experience horniness and a greater sense of self-confidence. Maybe that was why he took the drug, but lately, its symptoms were going away. When he said this, his dealer had started charging more for the stronger dose. Therefore, Ryou always had to go on more and more 'business trips' to be able to pay for his addiction.

Stretching out his hole, Ryou finished about ten minutes later, and left his apartment to go stand on the corner to meet Kaiba. The corner where Ryou stood was a small hidden little place he had found a year ago, when he had started selling himself. It was near a bar named Anaat run by a man named Shadi, and a small convenience store. Ryou liked it simply because it was hidden, so the police couldn't find him, yet it wasn't so obscure that customers wouldn't be able to find him. He got there, and a little later, a large black limousine pulled up right where he was standing. Smiling the smile of a professional, Ryou stepped into the car, and was immediately pushed onto the floor of the automobile by Kaiba.

"You know what I want. I don't pay good money to have you sit there and stare at my dick, so get to it." Kaiba grabbed the top of Ryou's head and pushed him towards the man's crotch. Ryou sighed softly and started undoing Kaiba's pants taking out his huge erection and started sucking on the tip. When Kaiba grabbed his hair sharply and tugged, Ryou took it all in and started bobbing his head, sucking as hard as he could. The first time he had done this, Ryou had expected him to stop right before he would come, but no, Kaiba came right into his mouth the first time, making Ryou splutter and choke. Kaiba had laughed at him that time, and called him a dumb whore, but the teen knew better now. Ryou was ready for when Kaiba would cum into his mouth, and he swallowed it all without an issue.

When he finished up, Ryou looked up at Kaiba, who was still hard and smiled sweetly up at him. "Sir, do you want to fuck me right here?"

The other man shrugged and started going through some business papers. "I don't have anything fun to use on you right now, so no. Just sit here, whore, and enjoy the riches that you'll never have." Ryou sighed softly, but ignored Kaiba, and smiled looking out of the window. This was another perk of pleasuring the man, being incredibly rich; he had a beautiful house and Ryou would be able to be in the lap of luxury, at least for a small while. Usually Kaiba would chase him out of the house after they fucked, but sometimes he would let him stay the night, and once he even took Ryou out shopping the morning after, claiming that he didn't want to see Ryou's 'cheap' clothes.

When they arrived at Kaiba Manor, Ryou went in and was immediately hugged by Seto's little brother, a cute twelve-year old boy named Mokuba. "Ryou, are you and my brother going to have a business meeting again? Will you play with me again? Please, please, please!" Mokuba swung around in Ryou's arms, smiling happily up at him.

"Y-yeah, business….that's what we're going to do. If I stay the night, I'll play with you tomorrow, okay, Mokuba?" Ryou smiled softly at the boy, and watched as he skipped away.

"Okay! I'll leave now, so you two can go discuss stuff about my big brother's company! Bye-bye!" Mokuba walked into his room, and when he left, Ryou turned around and shivered slightly under Seto's cold glare. "I don't pay you to be nice to my brother. Now go into my bedroom, whore." Ryou did what he was asked, and when he was in Seto's bedroom, Ryou took off all of clothes and got onto his hands and knees on the man's bed, and was immediately tied down by Seto, who had already taken off his clothes.

"S-sir…aren't you going to wait a bit before you fuck me?" Ryou started to look over his shoulder, but that was changed when Seto put the collar around him and chained it to the hand and ankle cuffs, making any chance of moving non-existent. Ryou shuddered at the feeling of the cold metal on his skin; he hated the feeling of it. It just reminded him more and more of the metaphorical chains that were surrounding his life, and the fact that he couldn't do anything about it.

And finally, the ball gag went around his mouth, effectively crushing any chance of complaining or asking Seto to stop. Ryou's tongue stuck out through the small metal circle, and he made sort of a whimpering noise when Seto got out the riding crop and started whipping him. He was used to the whipping, it wasn't anything new, but it felt like he would whip him harder every time they fucked. And much to Ryou's madness, he was getting harder as this was happening, and a bit of pre-cum dripped down the side of his dick. Apparently he was a masochist. Who knew?

Kaiba grunted every time he brought the riding crop down, which would earn a whimpering moan from Ryou's lips. Eventually, after a while, Seto got bored of whipping him, and pulled out a vibrator. Ryou turned his head slightly to look at what he was doing and moaned in painful yet pleasurable expectancy of the toy. It was one of his favorites, if he had to pick one, simply because it felt good and didn't hurt him at all. Ryou moaned loudly, not unlike a whore, when the toy entered him. He preferred the vibrator to Seto actually screwing him; Seto was incredibly strong, and he tended to bruise Ryou whenever he would fuck him.

Ryou's tongue stuck out and he made small moaning noises when the toy would hit his prostate, but when the fake dick left him, the teenager felt something much bigger at his ass' entrance. Without any type of fanfare or preparation, Kaiba swiftly and sharply entered Ryou. If Ryou hadn't already been stretched and had he not put lube in his hole that would have hurt. Like hell. But thankfully he had, so the man's dick didn't hurt like it should have. In fact, at that precise moment, Ryou felt pleasure, and he moaned loudly, urging Kaiba to fuck him faster and harder than already had been doing.

Kaiba, no matter how much he hated the man; knew what he was doing with his body; he had known from the first moment he had started fucking Ryou. Kaiba simply was good at sex; there was no getting around it. Ryou moaned loudly every time Seto would hit his prostate, and he knew that Seto was about to finish up when he started to groan softly and move faster and harder, each thrust feeling better than the last.

Right as Seto was about to cum inside of him, he bit the crook of Ryou's neck, not gently, and finished up into Ryou, then pulled out of Ryou and started ignoring him, as he usually did. Ryou had also finished up, but all over his stomach and chest. When he noticed that Kaiba was ignoring him, Ryou sighed internally and said "Sir, please un-chain me. I have another client to see."

Kaiba laughed sarcastically, "You really are a whore. Fucking more than one man in a night, that's impressive." Un-locking the chains, when Ryou stood up and got dressed, Kaiba hit him sharply across the face and said, "Don't ever forget, you're nothing more than a whore, and that's all you'll ever be. Now get out of my sight." He threw a wad of bills at Ryou and turned away from him.

Ryou rolled his eyes at Kaiba's treatment, but he was used to men abusing him like that. It was simply one of the things that happened when you started selling your body. Walking out of the mansion, Ryou pocketed the money happily and started on his way towards his next destination: the home of Mariku Rahotep. Ryou wouldn't normally too happy about going there, but this time he had enough money to pay for the Ecstasy without having to have sex with the Egyptian. Mariku wasn't into S&M too much, that was always a plus for Ryou, but Mariku knew how to get under the teen's skin, and get under it well.

Humming softly to himself, Ryou walked the streets of New York shivering slightly. Maybe he should've taken a jacket, but it was a little too late to think about that, so Ryou changed his route slightly and started heading towards his apartment. After all, the police would be less likely to pick him up as a hooker if he covered up his midriff, and changed out of these ridiculous boots into some more sensible tennis shoes. When he arrived at his apartment, Ryou quickly changed into a blue and white striped T-shirt and tennis shoes, but he kept the same jeans on. Might as well save on the amount of laundry he had to do. Grabbing his iPod and his wallet, Ryou walked out of the apartment and started on his way towards Mariku's mansion.

He hummed softly to himself as he walked, listening to one of his favorite songs, and soon arrived at the mansion of Mariku Rahotep, his angel and devil, his supplier. He walked in quietly, trying to avoid a certain someone, but all of his attempts were futile as Ryuji Otogi wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled Ryou close to him.

"Hey, sexy, care to give me a little service? I've got the bondage right in my bedroom." Ryuji cooed into Ryou's ear, earning a shudder from the younger man. Ryou pushed him off and glared angrily. "Go away, Otogi, I'm not here to be your toy." He glared at him and stalked off towards the main room, wherein sat the drug dealer, Mariku Rahotep. He grinned seeing Ryou and gestured for him to come closer.

Ryou walked slowly and carefully into the ostentatious room, admiring but hating the rich, black carpet, the deep red walls, and the dark chandelier with black crystals hanging off of it. He took a deep breath, and faced Mariku sitting on his throne. "I need more pills." He said timidly, and looked at him with pleading eyes. Mariku leaned forward, and looked at him interested.

"I have your pills, but do you have the money?" He cocked an eyebrow, and flicked a piece of his bangs out of his eyes. Ryou blushed, avoiding his gaze, and fished the money out of his wallet. "I have it all, the whole two-hundred dollars."

Mariku's eyes flared up at him then took the money and started to count it soundlessly. When he had finished he glared coolly at Ryou then leaned in closer. "How come you have the entire amount?" he hissed quietly, making sure that Ryou was the only one who could hear the quietly dangerous words. "You never have the money. Why the change?" Ryou backed away slightly, nearly tripping over a lush black rug lying on the ground, and he stammered "We-well….I just got fi-finished with a job…that's all…" He looked up at Mariku scared and breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when the taller man backed away.

Mariku dismissed him with a wave of his hand and said harshly, "Get out. I'll send the pills to your house tomorrow." Ryou nodded quickly and walked as fast as he could out into the cold winter night, and sat down onto the curb of the street and started to sob quietly, and each of them were directed towards those little colorful pills that changed his life.

Part Two: Malik

Malik looked down drunkenly at the floor and grumbled a combination of complaints and long strings of curses. He threw a bottle at the wall, and glared at it when it shattered against the wall, leaving a mess of glass and beer on the floor. Standing up slightly wobbly, Malik pulled on his jacket and walked down towards Anaat, and slumped down at the bar.

Shadi sighed, and looked at Malik annoyed. "Don't come here just to get more drunk, Malik. I'm not going to enable you more than I already do." Malik simply grunted in reply, and held out his hand, expectant for another beer. Shadi sighed and handed him one, then looked up when another customer walked in. "Ah, welcome!" Bakura smiled slightly at him and sat down next to Malik.

"I see he's drunk as usual." Bakura signaled for Shadi to come over and put his finger on his chin, thinking. "I'll have a double whiskey, on the rocks." He took a sip when Shadi set the cup down and started playing around with his phone. "Bartender, you might want to take care of that one" He gestured towards Malik with his chin. "He's rather unsightly." Shadi nodded and took Malik to the back room and gently laid him down onto the beat up couch. Malik mumbled in his drunken sleep, and Shadi blushed softly. Leaning down so his lips were an inch from Malik's, he whispered a softly. "uHibbuka, ya habibi." He kissed Malik softly, but when Malik kissed back slightly in his sleep, Shadi lost self-control and started kissing him deeply, pressing his tongue into the younger man's mouth, and putting his hands on his chest.

Malik woke up groggily, and was about to move when he realized that Shadi was on top of him, kissing and licking his neck. He quickly pushed him off and yelled "What the fuck, you fag? Get the fuck off of me!" Shadi looked down at him with hazy, lusty eyes and murmured, "uHibbuka…ya habibi." Marik tried pushing him off, but he was still drunk, and therefore a lot weaker than normal. Shadi held his arms above his head, and continued kissing him deeply, and Marik, merely out of habit, started slowly kissing back. Their kiss started eventually turned into a heavy make-out session. Malik moaned softly into his mouth, earning a groan from Shadi, and their heavy kissing continued. It was loving, yet at the same time, strangely hateful, making Malik realize that this could work somehow. In his drunken haze, Malik knew who he was kissing, but he had turned the black hair into long white locks, the tan Egyptian skin into a pale, albino white, and the dark blue eyes into piercing, red-brown ones. Their kiss continued for nearly a minute more, until they separated for air, both panting heavily and each with a throbbing erection. Malik was the first to break the silence, speaking only one word. "B-Bakura…." Shadi heard this, but only barely and suddenly realized he wasn't wanted. He walked out with his head hung, while Bakura, who had heard the entire exchange simply walked out of Anaat smirking.

Part Three- Bakura

Bakura was walking home from Mariku's angrily, and glaring at any passerby that glanced towards him. Fingering the small bag of cocaine he had in his pocket, he vaguely wondered how long it would be before the police caught him. If they hadn't caught him yet, they probably never would, but Bakura could still fantasize. Yes, if he was caught, he would kill the police. Stab their necks and make them choke on their own blood….oh, or better, he would slowly tear off their limbs, and then finally end their suffering by biting deeply into their necks….he smirked at the thought and entered his apartment, laughing maniacally at the thought of murder. He couldn't help it, the need to murder was welling up inside him again, but he had to kill again tonight, anyway. He pulled out his cell phone and looked at the message that Mariku had sent him. 'Need u 2 kill Anzu Mazaki. Do it 2nite or else. Mariku Ishtar'. Bakura rolled his eyes at the threat and started changing out of his doctor's outfit and into something more…appropriate for murder. Also known as all-black, he didn't want to be seen, and there was that annoying police detective that kept following him around. What was his name again? Yugi…something. Bakura shrugged at the thought and started looking around for his knives, essential for a good old-fashioned killing. Anzu Mazaki…he had heard that name before, ah yes. She was a small time drug dealer at clubs, mostly selling LSD or Ecstasy. Mariku hated any type of competition, immediately sending Bakura, his assassin, after people as soon as they showed up on his radar.

Bakura wandered into his bathroom and stared at his too-pale reflection in the mirror. Laughing sarcastically at himself, he muttered to himself, "Dammit, Yami, this is what you get for only going out at night." Still snickering at himself, Bakura pulled the baggie out of his pocket and stared at the white powder that resided inside. Sighing heavily, he pulled a small board and pharmaceutical pill splitter out. Pouring the drug onto the sanitized board, he methodically started splitting it up into small white lines. When he was finished with his task, Bakura leaned over the board, brushing his hair over his shoulder, blocking his left nostril, and quickly snorted up one of the tracks of cocaine. He pulled back panting, then quickly went to work on the other two. As he pulled back, Bakura started massaging his abused sinus passage, almost as an apology for the years of abuse to it. He stood up again, tucking his hair into a simple black beret, and walked out of his house, toting the bag of death. Locking up his door, making sure that no one could get in, Bakura started walking to a club Mazaki frequented, with a certain spring in his step that he only got from doing drugs.

He walked into the club, called Heartbeat, and looked around at the sluts, the dancers, the drunkards, and the general under-life of New York. Bakura smirked; he loved it. He wandered through the dancers, ignoring the advances of the young sluts that touched him, trying to get him to fuck their pussies. Bakura rolled his eyes, girls really weren't his thing; they were so annoying and whiny. He liked men, plain and simple, but sometimes, seducing a woman was necessary, like tonight. He spotted his prey from across the club, and stalked over to her, a predator hunting for his meal. Bakura sat down next to her and smirked at her, while she smiled back. "Hey, baby, want something to have a fun night tonight?" She laid across his lap, and smiled when he started sliding his hands up her body. "Mmm, not tonight, sexy." He responded. "I came here for something else. You. " Her smirk was nearly as wide as his as Bakura slid his hand up her yellow shirt and groped her breasts, earning a breathy moan from the woman. He smirked holding out his hand, and she held it, and they walked outside together. Bakura smirked, knowing she would expect something completely different than what happened. He twirled around with the grace and speed of a cheetah, and slashed her neck quickly with one of his trusty knives. He smirked at the blood that squirted out of her neck, and laughed when it landed on his clothes and face. Bakura was insane, he loved the feel, the taste, the smell of blood; it excited him, made him feel real, feel like he was alive. Was he alive? He shook his head and quickly threw her body into a dumpster and started wiping the blood off of him using a sanitary wipe. It may seem fucking idiotic, but it'd protect him from losing these clothes and from being interrogated….if they ever caught him. It didn't seem likely, but it could happen.

He walked down the street, listening to his iPod, merely for comfort, when he ran into him. Yugi. The miniscule detective walked up to the murderer and glared at him. "Yami." He stated, anger spitting out of the one word. "Ever regret murdering my brother?" Bakura smirked down at the strange boy, and said simply "There's no proof, Yugi. So why don't you run along and go back to some real police?" The anger coming off of the midget like detective was almost tangible, but Bakura shrugged it off and walked to his apartment, but when he got there, he didn't feel like going in. His high was wearing off slightly, and he needed…something. He turned in the opposite direction, heading to a bar, wanting to see his new, interesting little target. Malik Ishtar…he wouldn't live much longer. Bakura smirked and stalked into the night, blending into the darkness, the exact picture of a murderer.

WOOT! I-it's finally done! I know it took waaaaaay too long, and I'm sorry, but please enjoy the latest chapter being super long! Ha, Bakura's a crack addict. (I know it's cocaine, not crack, but still.) Heehee….you'll find out why Malik will be killed(?) in the next chapter, and yes, it has to do with the lovely Melvin. And you know what makes an author happy? REVIEWS! Yes, if you review, I will be your slave forever, and do whatever you want….please…review. I need to know if this is crap or not, I hope it's not


	4. Chapter 4: Malik, Mariku

Yeah, yeah, chapter four is arriving to your watch messages today! The music that got me through writing this chapter, and probably heavily influenced my writing was the Inception score (thank the heavens for Hans Zimmer). And if you haven't seen Inception, go watch it, because it is the best movie ever, and it has Leonardo DiCaprio! What more do you need in life?

Disclaimer: Hmm, last time I checked, I don't own anything, but maybe in my wildest dreams I do.

Part One: Mariku

The tan Egyptian slammed his hand down onto his plush red chair, angrily watching the slim pale figure recede. The little bitch not only had the full amount, but he had also stood up to his helper! Not that he blamed him for refusing Ryujii, but he still shouldn't piss off his suppliers. Standing up, Mariku made his way to the opulent bathroom and stared at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was limp and hanging around his shoulders, not standing up on edge like it usually was. He looked into the cabinet for some of his gel, and sighed when none was to be found. Mariku hadn't left his house recently, the police were getting too close for comfort, and he certainly didn't want to be arrested at this critical juncture. He was close to being the only drug dealer in New York; a major player, at least. He could care less about those little idiots that roamed the Bronx, looking to sell.

He tapped his chin thoughtfully as he stared into the mirror, thinking about why Bakura hadn't contacted him yet about Mazaki. Perhaps she was dead, or maybe Yami had gotten a little…sidetracked. He growled at that thought; Mariku needed him perfectly focused for the job at hand. To kill that little….that little imposter!

(Flashback- 3 Months Ago)

Mariku was walking the streets with Ryujii, laughing raucously as he drunkenly stumbled down the streets of Manhattan. That was when he saw him. He looked almost exactly like him, save for the spiky hair, muscular build, and the air of confidence that surrounded Mariku. It was almost as like this was the broken down doll version of himself, a cracked, unloved toy, that was never played with and sat on the shelf collecting dust, waiting for the owner to realize that their doll was still waiting, wanting to be loved and played with. The imitation was wearing a slightly untidy suit and had what looked like a manuscript in a manila folder tucked into his arm. He brushed a piece of hair out from his face, and turned a corner. Mariku never saw him again.

(End Flashback)

However, he did look into the little Egyptian doppelgänger, and found some interesting things. Not only had he stolen his face, but he had stolen his name. The Arabic word for 'king' hung on the tip of Mariku's tongue, and he saw the blurry pictures of the teen. Malik Seth Ishtar. Apparently he was a wannabe author with a drinking problem, but Mariku didn't care about all of that. He just wanted him dead; he wanted to be the only one that was exotic, tanned skin, blonde hair, lavender eyes. He should be the only one to look like that, not some little bitch that had probably stumbled upon looking like that. He growled at the mirror, and then quickly smoothed out his dress shirt and slacks. Despite the police, he still had a dinner appointment with a major business man in the city about the matter of some of his merchandise, and Mariku was never one to shy away from selling something. He smoothed his hair back into a slick ponytail and tied it tight, only leaving a few hairs in the front hanging loose. He always hated having all of his hair back…it reminded him of his childhood, and he hated that. No one ever talked to Mariku about his parents, and he liked it that way. He liked being one of the most powerful men in the city, and that he could control whatever someone did or did not say to him. He took out his kohl and carefully started applying it under his eyes in a manner similar to how he had done it every day. His mother had started putting it on him when he was little, and no matter how much he hated his family, it was a habit that had stuck, so Mariku would always apply the eyeliner to around and under his eyes every day, without fail.

When he had finished making himself presentable, Mariku walked out into the hall, and was soon attacked by Ryuuji, with a tight hug from behind. Mariku growled and tried to escape the tight grasp, but Otogi only held on all the tighter.

Otogi nuzzled Mariku's shoulder blade and said cheerily. "Mariku! Let's go and do it!" Mariku turned around and looked at him annoyed, and wasn't even aware that his eyebrow was twitching slightly until Ryuuji pouted sadly. "C'mon, boss, we haven't fucked in two days, and I'm all lonely!" Mariku rolled his eyes at the pitiful attempt to get into his pants.

"Get it together, Otogi. I have to meet with Kaiba for dinner, and I'm not too happy about that, and you're making my pissy mood even worse." Nodding when Ryuuji slunk back like a kicked puppy, Mariku made his way to his car and got in. His driver sped off to his destination, while Mariku looked out the window bored then sat up straight when he saw that little fucker, Marik! He growled out quietly and dangerously. "Stop the car." He ran out, ignoring to smooth his suit (though it was expensive, Mariku could hardly give a fuck). He slid to a stop in front of him, and glared angrily. "Malik Ishtar."

Malik looked up shocked at the tall figure towering over him, and cowered slightly. He had never seen this man before in his life, and yet he knew his name and had his face. He nodded slightly in response to his name and said, "Who are you?" Mariku smirked widely grabbing the front of Malik's shirt and said laughing loudly. "The man who is going to end your life!"

He grabbed a knife, swinging it down to break Malik's skin, spurting crimson blood everywhere, making Malik scream in pain. He swung it repeatedly, splattering blood over everything, his clothes, his hair, the street, the wall, everywhere. Malik's last view was of Mariku's insane grin….then nothing.

Part Two: Malik

Malik walked down the street, humming softly to himself. He wasn't normally this happy, but a publisher had finally taken some interest in his book, so Malik decided after his part-time job at Taki's that he could indulge himself and go out and eat for dinner, instead of getting it for free from Shadi. He walked along, swinging his arms, and watched the hookers, druggies, dealers, and the scum of the city walk along with him, comrades, and partners, one and the same.

He smiled slightly at the women of the night, knowing they had just a hard a time as he did at surviving. He didn't like hookers one bit. They disgusted him, selling their body to make a bit of cheap cash that they would just spend as frivolously as they acquired it. He knew why they did it, some people really had no say in the matter, but still, it was horrifying to him to know that some women and even men would do that to themselves to make money. He looked over at a fancy Lexus sitting at the corner and sighed harshly. Rich bastards showing off their money in front of all of the scum; Malik hoped he got car-jacked because it'd be funny as hell. He watched as the man sitting in the car got out and suddenly glared at him, stalking over to where he was standing, and suddenly grabbed his shirt. Malik glared. "Who are you?" The man smiled sadistically and hissed. "The man who's going to end your life." He hit him across the face, punching his nose, making blood spurt out, and suddenly….Malik blacked out.

Malik woke up in a sterile environment, and had a throbbing pain in his head. He tried to move his hand, but found that his arm was broken. It seemed like every bone in his body was broken, but the more logical side of Malik knew that was impossible….at least, he'd be dead if that was what was happening. He looked up as the door opened, and…fuck. That white haired doctor named Bakura was walking in, and he didn't look too happy. He walked up to stand next to bedside, and towered over Malik.

"You met, Mariku, huh?" He sighed, rubbing his temples, and looked Malik straight in the eyes. Malik shrugged slightly, and said, "If by Mariku you mean the insane guy who tried to kill me, then yes." Bakura chuckled slightly. "Oh, he's not insane; he just hates you, a lot."

Malik sat up slightly and looked at Bakura. "But why? I've never even met the guy before!"

Bakura took a deep breath, sighed and said, "Here's why."

End of chapter.

Teehee. I'm being evil now.


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